


Closure

by lilipoo



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-27 22:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6301966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilipoo/pseuds/lilipoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She has drifted so far that even when she's just a few steps in front of him, he couldn't feel more alone. Pre-Season 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted on FFN.net under the same title. Kinda angsty. Not fluffy at all.

Everyone needs closure. Stories of painful pasts, to be forgotten, must be burnt to the ground until all that remains are debris that are too miniscule to require another thought. They must be destroyed until all that remains to be seen stops being the thing that matters most. But flames, like all things, need to start from somewhere. A spark, a blistering friction between two opposing forces… a face off with the enemy. The small piece of ember that torches everything else asunder.

Finding that is the easy part. The follow through, however, is a hell a lot trickier.

Grant Ward is beginning to realize that now.

He stares down at the epicenter of all his quandaries and fights off a frown. Figuring out the linchpin of his existence is, well, to put it simply, a no brainer. He'd known who it is for quite some time already, and honestly, he really has no problems admitting to that.

He wouldn't lie; it took a lot of getting used to. Coming to terms with such strange feelings, let alone realizing that he is capable of harboring them, was hard. And coming from him, that is indeed saying something. He is not that big on emotions. He is simply not that guy.

He is supposed to be better than this.

He was trained by the best. Not only because he has to, but also because he wanted to. He can't be a pathetic wuss forever. He needs to prove his worth, to show Garrett that all his efforts on him did not go to waste.

So in return for the trust he's been given, he did everything he could to make him proud. He topped his class in the academy, aced every proficiency test there is, and when he finally graduated, killed every operation with such skill he soon became one of the legends in SHIELD.

But the secret, really, is not the skill, nor the ability to read the enemy's moves long before he thinks of making them. Hell, it is not even spending ungodly hours in training until his body gives out.

He simply never fights battles he knew he'd lose.

Not until this.

Until her.

Who would've thought it would just take a single person to reduce him back to where he started? With a blink of an eye, more than a decade's worth of changes dissipated into thin air, like they were nothing. He morphed back into that clueless nobody he used to hate so much, the weakling who has no idea of what he's going to do with his life. He should've known better.

He obviously didn't, or he wouldn't be stuck in this pathetic situation in the first place. He got too close, and now, he's paying the price.

And yeah, the cost is pretty high.

But the mistake has already been committed. The damage has been done. Regrets won't help him anymore. What he needs—what he can do—is to rectify the situation. It is, after all, the one part of his job in which he excelled the most.

It is also the one part of his job that he never enjoyed.

Looking back, he should've seen it. He should've known how this would end. The signs were there. From the start his mentor warned him that caring is just as abrasive as a badly infected wound that could slowly rot one's insides away. That friendship is a commodity only available to those who are too naïve to see it for what it really is—an illusion of safety, a concept pretending to be a safety net when in truth it is nothing but the very tool that holds even the strongest people down. Emotions are cancers of the soul. And cancers need to be taken out.

He really thought he had listened.

Yet here he is, a compromised fool, staring down at the most obvious proof that that he hadn't. No, he didn't listen at all.

But Garrett is not Garrett if hasn't considered all the possibilities. Come to think of it, dealing with these sort of stuff may have been the first real lesson he taught him. It may be even the only reason why he let Buddy stay with him all those months. Make no mistake, living alone in the woods for years is no cakewalk, sure, but it is no lesson either. At least, not as much of a learning experience as shooting his only real friend at the time, in the head, with a sniper rifle. Raiding cabins in the middle of the night with a shotgun he didn't even know how to fire is like a trip to Mykonos compared to what Garrett told him to do. Or perhaps, what he showed him that he could do.

The little bastard was loyal to a fault, he'd give him that. Even as he stared right at him through the scope of his gun, there was still complete trust in his eyes. Buddy thought his master wouldn't hurt him. That he wouldn't shoot him. In some ways he reminded him of Thomas.

He betrayed them both, after all.

Ward shakes his head and sighs. He's come so far and yet time and time again fate plays with him and throws him back exactly to where he's started.

Now, all that is left for him to do is to hope that this one would be the last of them.

Well, it better be, for he doesn't have anyone to betray anymore. She's the only one left.

* * * * * * *

He's planned it all, up to the tiniest, most insignificant detail. And just as he suspected, SHIELD takes the bait, no questions asked. This is why people like him can easily manipulate those fools in the palm of his hand—they are so damn predictable. Dangle a piece of meat in front of them, add a little danger to a couple of innocent lives, and poof… he doesn't have to find them anymore. They'll come running to him, no matter what the cost, and despite not knowing what kind of shit they are getting themselves into.

He can't help but wonder how those selfless idiots had managed to survive this long without being thoroughly extinct.

But then again, he used to be one of them, once upon a time. So maybe he understands. Sort of.

It started a few weeks ago, when one of his men informed him of some chatter about a group of SHIELD agents scouring the west coast for a teenage girl. Though a small corner of his heart momentarily seized upon hearing the name of the organization that used to employ him, he didn't give it much of a thought. He had other pressing concerns to attend to at the time, and truthfully, he doesn't really care about SHIELD's headhunting mission, or whatever it was they're doing. He's fairly busy doing some of that on his own. However, his interest got piqued a couple of days after that when he himself got wind of a commotion in San Francisco involving a girl who can allegedly manipulate water. It wouldn't hurt to have another powered individual in his roster would it?

Jesus, who was he kidding? The real clincher, no matter how he wanted to think otherwise, were the quakes.

It has always been the quakes.

He's not a stupid man. Even a rookie level one agent can put those two and two together. Hearing about SHIELD and a powered teen may not be as intriguing as, let's say, million year old obelisk with alien inscriptions carved on it, but SHIELD, a powered teen, and earthquakes? That can only mean one thing.

Or one person.

So, like a dutiful Hydra agent that he is, he goes to San Francisco and sets the whole thing up. The task, though clearly not textbook, is simple enough. It is just a simple grab, discreet, but something that would surely hit SHIELD's radar. He even added a handful of some well placed misinformed people, just to be on the safe side.

And as expected, she arrived in less than twelve hours. And she wasn't alone.

Too bad, he thought to himself at the time. So was he.

Earlier that day, he found out that poaching a water bender is not hard you do not exactly share the opposing team's concern about secrecy. But it is especially not hard when one of your people can conjure sedative gas out of thin air. And honestly, after getting a wind of what Skye and her people could do nowadays, it is always nice to have a human tranquilizer machine by his side at all times.

"Are you sure this is the place, Daisy?" Ward heard a tall blond man ask. He was scanning the dock with wary eyes. Ward has seen him before; he was with Mike in that old building that he and Coulson had raided.

And he's calling her Daisy. What is with that?

"Keep your eyes open." Skye calmly told the team, breaking Ward off his reverie. As she was scanning the area, her gaze lingered a little longer on where he and his colleague were crouched. But eventually, she shrugged. They are too hidden for her to notice.

Her friends follow her orders as if she's their leader or at least a senior officer. She sure acted like one. And she really has a commanding presence, as far as he could tell. She's brought four people, two standing beside her, and two more on her six. All were wearing what appeared to be some newly issued SHIELD uniform he's never seen before in his life.

"There's only five of them boss, you sure you need me here? I know how easily you can—oh." The words from the mouth of the boy beside Ward were cut short when his gaze landed on the red headed girl behind Skye. "Oh."

Ward's eyebrows arched high on his forehead. The red haired woman behind his former rookie just produced two more copies of herself. Out of thin air. With a small smile, he briefly turned to his companion. "Interesting enough for you now, Dex?"

The absence of response from his end is all the affirmation Ward needed. Dex carefully asked, "Are we going to take them?"

"Not all." Ward replied absently, still staring intently at the group below them. Absently, he counts the bullets on his magazine before shoving it back inside his gun with practiced ease. He won't be needing it, at least not yet, but old habits are not that easy to forget. "I just need one of them. Where's the water bender?"

"The others took her back to base." Dex quickly responds, eager to please, as always. "Who are we taking? The red head multiplier, the pretty lady with the tranq gun, or the blond boyfriend with the scruff?"

Ward heard himself chuckle, trying to mask the bitter taste Dex's question left in his mouth. He shot him a bored look. "If she blasts you off your feet with a shockwave strong enough to knock your teeth in, I doubt you will ever call her pretty again."

The pretty girl it is then. "Not if she's unconscious." Dex said, unfazed by the new information. Ward could tell how much he's fighting off a pout.

"That is true." Ward has seen firsthand what the boy could do, and though he may not be as field ready as most of his people, his unique skill set definitely makes up for it. "But I need to talk to her first."

"Talk?" Dex stared at him as if he just grew a second head. He's been working with Ward for a couple of months now, and he's pretty sure hearing his boss wanted to talk—to a SHIELD agent of all people—violates at least twelve laws of nature. "About what?"

"None of your business." Ward deadpanned.

But Dex was not having any of it. "Then what, are you going to kill her?" His boss certainly is capable of doing such task, he'd seen him do it a couple of times already, but for some reason he still needed to know. Ward is acting a little strange lately, especially after he's heard about the recent happenings here in San Francisco.

Ward fought the bile that threatened to rise from his throat as he thought of his answer.

Though he appears resolute, the fact that Ward's features took a gloomier shade did not escape Dex. So when his boss finally nods, Dex had to literally bite his tongue to keep himself from pursuing the topic further. "Why just her?"

Ward saw the cringe in Dex's face the moment the question leaves his mouth. He sighed. He knew he's really trying not to be as nosy as he used to, but if there's anything he's learned from all the shit he's been through, it is that it's impossible to fight one's true nature. "You ask too many questions, you know that?"

Dex frowned. Somehow, he is not convinced that his friend was being entirely truthful to him. However, since Ward's present concerns do not seem to directly involve him, he chose to let it slide. "Whatever. Just don't make her suffer too much, will ya?"

Ward almost clocked the boy's face right then and there. And Dex probably didn't notice it because he wouldn't continue talking if he did. "I like the way she smiles at her team. She seems kinda nice. You know, for a SHIELD agent… from afar."

With a jaw clenched so tight, Ward glared at the younger man beside him. He made sure his colleague see his exasperation this time.

"Geez, man. I'm not being a softie." Dex said, raising his hands in defense. "Take a chill pill."

The glare does not go away. Ward hissed. "Just do your job, and shut the hell up!"

"Okay, okay, shutting up now." Dex mumbled in a tone that was meant to placate his suddenly very grouchy boss. "What the hell is wrong with you today?"

"Do it now." Ward ordered him gruffly.

Dex raised his palm towards the direction of the group and murmurs under his breath. "Sleepy time guys. Sorry, my boss is being a grumpy cat today. Night night!"

On the other side of the dock, one by one, Skye's team toppled forward like discarded ragdolls. The former Rising Tide hacker frantically searched the area for its cause, but could only find endless stacks of container vans with Chinese writings on them. She rushed to each of her teammates, checking their pulses. A relieved sigh escaped from her lips when she finally ascertained that none of them were dead.

"Relieved I didn't kill them?"

Skye's head quickly snapped to the direction of the voice. She's slightly taken aback when she noticed that it came from a boy who couldn't be any more than sixteen. He's standing in front of her with hands on his waist, posture so relaxed one would think he owned the place.

So he's the one hiding behind those crates. Damn it. If not for the overwhelming noise coming from the nearby bay, she probably would've spotted him sooner. Skye stood up from beside Lincoln without taking her eyes off the young stranger who just appeared out of nowhere. "Who are you?" His all too confident stance sends her senses on high alert. He didn't come alone. She could feel it. "What did you do to them?"

The boy merely offered her a lopsided grin. "Somebody wants to speak with you."

"That somebody have a name?" She irately inquired, eyes slightly widening when she noticed that the boy is about to raise his hand. However, when she's about to raise hers as well to take a defensive stance, he clucked his tongue in warning.

"Nuh-uh-uh." He said, gesturing her to put down her hand with his index and middle fingers. "No shockwaves allowed, lady. Unless you want to end up just like your team back there."

Skye slowly took down her hand, and it barely reached her side when she suddenly thrusted it forward, sending a small blow of force that catches the boy completely off guard. She sauntered to him. If he knows what her abilities are, or at least, has some idea of what it is, then she is in more danger than she originally thought. "Who the hell do you think you—"

It was too late before she realized that she had made a grievous mistake. Like her, his hands were raised, too.

Her world tilted as a huge wave of dizziness suddenly came over her. Particles were vibrating around her, a thick envelope of fog that can only be felt, not seen. The boy blurred in front of her, his careful smirk disappearing behind huge clouds of gray spots. She tried blinking through the haze, but it eerily felt like looking through a very long tunnel. She heard somebody speaking, screaming maybe. She wasn't sure. Little by little, she started losing feeling in her arms, then eventually her legs. Briefly, she thought she was falling to her side, but she did not feel hitting the ground, so she could be wrong. As the world started to take a darker shade, the screaming in her ears slowly turned into muffled rumbling… then to a background noise. It became weaker, and weaker, and weaker…

And then it was nothing.

Though Ward was quick enough to catch Skye before she completely fell over, he's too far from them to stop whatever it was Dex did just before he did it. "I told you, Dex, I have to speak to her first!"

"She fucking threw me across the room! You can't expect me to just stand her and wait for her to blast my intestines off!" Dex defended, almost indignantly.

"She wouldn't have attacked you if you didn't act all cocky and suspicious, Dex. You basically announced to the world that you know what she can do, you moron."

"She's one of them; of course she'd attack me no matter what I do." Dex argued. "Besides, I am working for you. They hate you, so by default, they would most likely hate me too."

Ward was barely able to keep himself from flinching at that remark. He didn't tell Dex all that so he could throw it back to his face at first opportunity. He merely gave him his story to gain his trust. Angrily, he hissed, "Yes, you do work for me, but if you don't start zipping your mouth, you'll no longer be."

That is the only threat that could effectively shut Dex up, and Ward knew it. He had his fair share of acquaintances neck deep in abandonment issues, after all.

Dex's jaw clenches, a clear physical attempt to stop himself from muttering a retort.

In an attempt to regain his composure, Ward took subtle deep breaths while counting backwards to ten. It helped a little, so he's a tad calmer when he finally gestures his underage colleague to leave. "Go back to base. Tell them I just have something to take care of."

Dex gaped at his boss, who was by then fully turned towards the direction of his car with the unconscious pretty lady tucked safely in his arms. "Wait, that's it?" He asked, but he knew better than to try and follow them.

When Ward didn't say anything, Dex muttered disagreeably under his breath. He's not pleased with this turn of events. They are in the middle of nowhere. He may be a powered individual, but it does not mean he doesn't need cars. All he could do is make people fall asleep; he can't walk for five freaking miles!

Well, he actually can, but that is beside the point. "What do you want from her, anyway?"

Ward stole a glance from the woman sleeping against his chest, his face looking stormy all of a sudden. He was too far away from Dex to hear, but he answers his question regardless. "Closure."

* * * * * * *

Every time he looks at her, he feels as if he has sinned.

What the hell, of course he would, that must be it. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to explain why the longer he stares at her, the harder it gets for him to breathe. His lungs feel like they are being forced out through the spaces between his ribs, every breath burning inside him in an all-consuming blaze. The mere act of breathing exhausts him, and as much as he hates to admit it, he knows, deep down, he still isn't prepared for this.

He hates himself. He didn't want to be this man. He's being puny, and pathetic, and stupid, and god… he can't afford to stay like this forever.

"At first I thought all I needed is to talk to you, settle things, or maybe even peacefully end everything once and for all…" he mutters, "but now that you are finally here, right in front of me, I really couldn't think of anything to say."

The sigh that leaves his chest is twice as heavy as the brick that masquerades as his heart. It resonates through the deafening silence of his boat's cabin, drowning the sound of rushing water hitting the hull to an indiscernible whisper.

"I never wanted this." He murmurs sullenly as he fixes his eyes on his unconscious passenger. Making difficult decisions has been part of him for all his life, and frankly, he's starting to get used to them. But this time, this choice is not simply difficult—it is impossible. "I do not want to do this… but you left me with no other choice." He says softly. "I'm sorry."

(You need to take your weakness out before it consumes you.)

He takes out his gun and aims it on her sleeping form. She's lying so still. Oblivious. Innocent. So blissfully unaware of the monster that stands before her. Of the bullet that threatens to forcefully drag the life out of her as she sleeps. More than two decades worth of existence about to be cut short by just some meager piece of lead—shot by someone who is worth even much less.

Despite his obvious misgivings, and the intense churning in his stomach which started way before he even saw her, he takes a step further. He has to end this now, or it never will. He has to be strong. Perhaps for once he can be selfish when it comes to her. He has to do this for him, for his own closure. It may be the only thing that could save him. He needs to get his life back. He needs to move on. From her. From his weakness. "I'm so sorry Skye."

One shot to her chest. To her heart. That's all he needs. One last act of cruelty before he could finally let himself heal.

He can still heal.

He clenches his jaw and waits a heartbeat, half expecting that she'd suddenly jump out of the covers and blast him off, attack him until he bleeds. Truth be told, some part of him wishes that she would. It'll be easier if she's fighting him, cursing him, or screaming at him with all she's got. Even after all the unpleasant things he's done, the hard choices he's made, the innate cruelty of what he's about to do still does not sit well with him.

The gun on his hand shakes slightly, coercing a muffled curse from his lips. It betrays the mask of nonchalance firmly ironed on his face.

"Wake up." Please fight me, rookie. Make this easier for me. "Come on, Skye."

Despite his pleas, nothing happens from her end. She remains put, unmoving. In fact, if not for the regular rise and fall of her chest, he'd think she's already dead. The very thought unsettles him in a way he could not explain, and he doesn't want to think about it anymore, knowing exactly where that line of thinking will lead.

God, you're incredibly weak and unbelievably stupid, Grant Ward.

He grits his teeth and moves closer.

As he's about a foot away from her bed, he hears a soft sound escaping from her lips. It is a seemingly harmless thing to do, but to him it is almost traitorous. It is as though that single incognizant deed is all that is needed to zap every bit of air inside his lungs, the metaphorical rug that is savagely dragged from underneath his feet. He stops dead on his tracks, with a lame excuse for a weapon hanging limply on his calloused hand. He is at a loss of what to do.

She's not fighting fair.

The brightness he sees in her soul, now that the eyes that openly despise him are hidden beneath a veil of unconsciousness, makes him feel unworthy of being there, of breathing the same as her. It makes him forget all the betrayals, lies, and bullets that are wedged between them, that tore them apart, then drove her away.

His face contorts in a mixture of pain, resignation, and an awful amount of regret. Despite everything that has happened, he knows, deep inside, that she's still the same Skye. He could see it, as clear as day, especially now that she sleeps. The calmness in her features, the slightly upturned lip that's just a small shove away from being a smile, the slight furrow in between her brows, they're all still there. It never changed. She's still the same Skye.

But just as long as he's not there to see it.

He's not dumb; it's not much of a secret how his betrayal broke something inside her, starting a whole chain of events that slowly planted seeds of anger and doubt into her head. Mistrust comes with their job, he'd accepted that long ago. They're spies, for god's sake. But seeing them dancing so fiercely in her eyes whenever she looks at him makes it feel so wrong. It doesn't suit her. It doesn't belong there. It shouldn't be there.

He'd screwed this up. He screwed everything up. The quirky hacker he kidnapped from a van in Los Angeles is now a ruthless agent who's more than willing to kill him, given the chance. The person who used to always see the good in people is now replaced by an empty shadow who couldn't see anything past the monster he has become.

And it's nobody else's fault but his.

"I hurt you." How can she see the good in him when there is nothing left anymore? She couldn't see past the monster because the monster is all there is to see. "I am still hurting you."

(I am not a good man, Skye.)

(Yes, you are…)

No.

He shakes the memory of her words out of his head. That is a huge can of worms that he swore never to touch again, not even with a ten foot pole. He can't afford to forever stare longingly into that goddamn box of what-could've-beens. If he wants this to stop, he needs to forget this madness. He has to bury it all away. There is no chance for them. There never has been. And as much as it pains him, he needs to accept that.

He also had to accept that this is the closure that he needs. The next step he has to accomplish so he could finally start over—to move on with his life. He needs to move on. From this… from her.

Calming his mind, he disengages the safety of his gun and re-aims it. He swallows the bile that threatens to rise from his throat, and breathes in deeply. He lingers on the trigger, fingers tightening against the unforgiving metal.

He could end this. Now. "I'm sorry, Skye."

(So you're gonna kick back, and watch me bleed, until it's your turn to pull the trigger…)

He swears, turning away from her with an angry scream. Her voice in his head sounded so real, and it may have been almost a year since she said it, still, time did nothing to make the words any less hurtful. The cool metal handle of his weapon is grating against his temple as he grabs his head harshly, an onslaught of memories viciously attacking him from all directions.

(If you need to talk, I am here…)

(There's a huge chance that we may die out here so, what the hell…)

(Say it, Ward. Say it!)

(You are a serial killer!)

(A big, fat, frickin' Nazi!)

(You were right about one thing—I wouldn't like the real you.)

"Stop!" He is clutching his head for dear life, fearing that if he lets go, he might break. Some strange moisture pools in his eyes. "Please stop…" He begs softly, even if he knows that they will only fall on deaf ears. He doesn't understand why she could still hurt him when he's all but declared himself infallible to such petty sentiments.

He wants to tell himself that all this hesitation is simply because she's an unarmed and defenseless target. That it would be much easier if she's wide awake and pointing a gun towards him, returning the favor.

He could be a good liar when he needs to be, sure, but even he couldn't be that good.

God, he can't fucking do it.

"Turn around and pull the goddamn trigger, son." Garrett's commanding voice inside his head orders him gruffly. He never really left him after he died. He has always been there, lurking inside his brain, telling him what he should and should not do. Usually he follows him like a good soldier he groomed him to be. He never actually considered saying no to him, or disobeying him, even now that he's gone. Because even if he died batshit crazy and completely unhinged, it doesn't change the fact that without him, he'd be nothing. Probably still stuck in prison, wasting away his useless life. Maybe even dead.

But now, for some reason he could not explain, his knee jerk reaction to his orders is replaced by doubt. Come to think of it, he's been having that for a while now. What he's asking him to do is not easy.

"Shoot her, kid." Garrett tells him again. His voice is eerily calm. "This is the only way."

The only—

No.

No, it isn't.

He keeps on deluding himself that he could do it, but the longer he stayed on this charade, the faster his conviction crumbles. John may have saved his life, but that doesn't mean he owns him.

Not anymore.

"No." He murmurs determinedly to himself. He couldn't stay forever underneath the shadow of a dead person. Yes, Garrett was his constant, and by extension, Hydra. But if he's going to be truthful to himself, he's already changed sides far more times than he could count. Hydra, SHIELD, Hydra, SHIELD, then Hydra again. The cycle went on and on. However, in the end of the day, he always ended up the same. Following his mentor. Taking his every word as if he's the second coming. Every time he considered staying with SHIELD for real, Garrett is always there to pull him back, dragging his rein back to the clasps of Hydra. And he let him. He owed him so much; the least he could do is to do everything he asks.

But there was this time, this one time after Skye was shot, when he almost tells Coulson all of it. For a brief moment, he forgets about Garrett, his debt, all he did for him, everything. He almost tells Coulson how he is not really who he thought he was. That he knew who ordered the shooting, but didn't realize it until it was too late. Sure, he owed Garrett his life, and it's just fitting to give him something in return. But ordering Quinn to put two in her gut is way out of line. Skye has nothing to do with their mess. She's not supposed to be involved. She's off limits. For crying out loud, she's not even a real agent then.

But all of a sudden Garrett arrives to the bus, his reckless bravado stuffing the words back into his throat before he even had the chance to speak. Called him a tenderhearted fool who's letting his emotions cloud the big picture.

"I didn't pick you up from the dirt just to have you jumping back into it because of a girl." Garrett tells him with a snarl the moment he finds him alone. "You don't have to say the words kid, I can see them on your pathetic lovesick face just fine."

Ward opens his mouth to defend himself, only to close it again dejectedly. Even then, he knows that there is no use lying to the guy. Garrett has every crease and crevice of his brain all mapped up in the back of his hand.

And, time and time again, he reminds him why. Of what he would and would not be, without his help. Of how he would still be rotting in prison if he didn't pull him out when he did.

So just like that, he becomes a Hydra agent once more. And he stayed that way.

Until everything went to hell.

Despite all of his craziness, both figuratively and literally at that, Garrett was still right about one thing: He is a fool, for even hoping that this would end up any other way.

But his S.O. is dead now, and truthfully, with all the people he ordered to be killed, Ward is starting to think that he simply got what he deserved.

And this situation, this slump he finds himself in, is probably what he deserves for blindly following him.

Because now, after everything that has happened, after all the changes he went through, after Garrett has proven that he couldn't be a constant figure in his life after all, he finally sees it. His loyalties had shifted long before his mentor died. He found a new constant—it's just that he refused to see it until it's gone. Until she's gone.

And now, as he braves to look at her once more, he knows for certain that it's too late. He doubts she'd ever waste her energy on him. When his betrayal came out in the open, she started to drift farther and farther away from him. Now, she'd drifted so far that even when she's just a few steps in front of him, he couldn't feel more alone.

He struggles to remove from his mind the memories of another time, another place—when he was still her S.O. and she was still his rookie. When he was still teaching her how to hold a gun. Who could've imagined that he'd learn more things from her than she ever would from him?

He raises his hand, using it as a makeshift gun and aims it at her. She used to do it a lot before, and if that version of Skye ever sees him like this, doing the exact same thing, he'd never hear the end of it.

He wondered what she'd say to him now, given everything he has done. Calling him a pathetic wimp doesn't seem far off.

"Bang!" He mutters in a voice that is split between a laugh and a cry. He doesn't know what he's doing anymore. This used to be so easy for him. Being cold and detached is practically his second nature. He swallows hard to dislodge the huge lump stuck in his throat, wondering what the hell happened to that guy. Maybe he died with Thomas Nash, or Agent Hand, or Eric Koenig, or some other innocent person he's crossed off.

His choices made him lose this. Lose her. If there's anyone to blame, it's him. It's not his parents, not Christian, and hell, not even Garrett. Killing her wouldn't give him the closure he so desperately needs. It would just make him a hundred times more monstrous than he already is.

He's sick of it.

With a loud yell, Ward drops his hand, letting his knees buckle underneath him. A frustrated sigh leaves his mouth, which all of a sudden became very dry. He couldn't think straight; couldn't speak.

And for the first time since his little brother died, Grant Ward wanted to cry.

She's so close, but it could've been universes away and he still wouldn't notice the difference. Gathering what little courage remaining in him, he reaches out to touch her face and brushes the stray hair covering her eyes.

"This is my punishment." He murmurs, drawing his forehead next to hers. His voice is shaking. "I know that now."

He holds her face so close, he could feel the air she breathes as it brushes so lightly against his skin. He wanted this moment to last. God, what he would give to turn back time and take back all the wrong choices he's made, all the innocent lives he took. He wanted her to look at him like the way she used to before, without anger, without being disgusted of the horrible person he had become. Even just for once. Just this once.

"Why are you making so hard for me to let you go?" His words are filled with so much pain and regret as they stumbled so softly out of his mouth and to her ears that would not hear. If Garrett ever saw him like this, he'd be very disappointed of how pathetic and weak he has become. "What did you do to me, Skye?"


	2. Two

She wakes up with a start, a confusion muddled mind, and an unbelievably massive headache. A small movement from the corner of her vision startles her, but luckily, her training kicks in before she could make any sudden movements. She remains still.

"I know you're up. No use pretending that you're not."

She knows that voice. God, she hated that voice. Of course it's him. He has like, developed a hobby of abducting her whenever he gets the chance. "Oh, it's you. Again." She says in a voice that screams I'm-so-tired-of-your-fucking-face-I'm-not-even-interested-enough-to-look-at-you-anymore. He probably heard her breathing change for a few seconds before it went right back to its false regularity. She may be starting to become a good agent under May's wing, but she has to face it-he'd been in the business longer. It's not too much of a shock that he's a lot better than her when it comes to these things. "Why am I even surprised?"

Ward barely gives her a glance as he continues to keep his attention focused on the gun he's cleaning. "I was beginning to think you'd be sleeping there forever."

"Glad I amuse you", she mumbles sarcastically. Slowly, as the room continues to tilt on its axis, she pulls herself into a sitting position. Her vision is as blurry as hell. "What did you do to my team?"

"Your team?" Ward asks with a slight amusement in his eyes. He chuckles. "So that's what they are! Didn't figure Coulson as the type to promote rookies so soon."

"Well, the traitors left us quite understaffed." She replies cuttingly before a small wave of nausea hits her. Wherever she is, it is definitely not where she could easily bolt out and run. "A boat? You've gotta be kidding me."

"This is technically a modified quinjet enabled for sea travel, but I'll try not to be offended."

His response only aggravates her anger. And when she looks down on her arms, she is reassured that it's only just the beginning. How dare he put these inhibitors on her?

"My, my, I must say, those gauntlets really look good on you." Ward says in a mocking tone, practically reading her mind. "Brings out the color of your eyes."

"Fuck you." She grits out, attempting and failing at removing them. They're locked on her arms. And they're pretty tight. Goddamn it.

He clucks his tongue. "Such coarse language, did May teach you that?"

She ignores his comment and continues on trying to wiggle the gloves loose. "Where did you get these?"

He smirks. "Not everyone is a master hacker like you, Skye, but that doesn't mean they can't get the job done."

"Yeah, whatever." He could talk for as long as he wants. See if she gives a damn. Her abilities may be out of the question for now, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't be able to give him a fairly decent fight when the need arises. But she still can't help but ask. Simmons' designs aren't just accessible to anyone. She should know; she personally made sure of that when she recalibrated SHIELD's firewalls after the Inhumans' attack. "What obscure logic has gotten in your head this time? Why am I here?"

The smirk on his face did not fade, not even a little. "Maybe I just like having you with me."

She rolls her eyes, totally not buying his bullshit. "God, Ward, you really don't learn, do you?" If May ever finds out that she had let her guard down long enough for the bastard to kidnap her again, she won't be exactly thrilled.

Ward chuckles and blows the gunpowder residue off the barrel of his Sig. "Only when you're concerned."

She couldn't understand why he always keeps on going down that road. Honestly, it's starting to seriously annoy her. "So what now? You're gonna brainwash me like the rest of your friends?" She asks scathingly. "That's the only way you get them now, right?"

He grins at that but does not reply. It angers her further.

She drags herself up to a stand, but quickly regrets it as the entire cabin spins right before her eyes. It's a miracle she was still able to keep herself upright until the wave of dizziness passes. Surprisingly though, not even one of her limbs is bound. Whether that's deliberate or a mere oversight on his part, she still isn't sure. But knowing Ward, it must be the former. He's always planning something anyway. "Can you not be a psycho right now? You are taking the creep factor way too far."

"I'm not going to brainwash you, Skye. I'm never going to do that to you." He pauses, letting his words sink in. He clearly pretending to be oblivious to the sharp daggers Skye's eyes are throwing at his general direction. "And besides, brainwashing... not my style."

"Well, Bakshi is not here anymore to disprove that claim, is he?"

He stares at her tiredly, unfazed by her hostile behaviour towards him. He expected nothing less; after all, she is the same woman who shot him four times at point blank range months ago. "Oh yeah." He nods, as if he just remembered how he got Bakshi to betray his beloved cause, which eventually led to his timely demise. "Forgot 'bout that."

The moment she finds the chance, she'd gladly drive a rusty nail into Ward's forehead. Maybe that would fix some of his screws which, by the looks of it, weren't simply loose. They're completely MIA. He's a goner; as in craptastically crazy gone. "Of course you did. It's always about you, right? Everyone else fades in the background because it is always their fault why you turned out like this huge psycho that you are."

She sees his features tighten for a split second before he manages to tuck it all away again behind that stoic mask he wears. "Maybe you're right." He says with a shrug. "I kept hanging onto you even though I know you despise me. If that makes me a psycho, then so be it."

"Hanging on to me?" She scoffs, clearly disgusted of what she's hearing. "I shot you four times, Ward, get a clue."

He puts down his gun and pivots on his seat to face her. His face has taken an unreadable expression. "Oh, I got the message alright. Loud and clear."

"Good to know." She says, her tone full of spite. "…and FYI... I will do it again."

"I know," he gives her a look that makes her feel very uncomfortable all of a sudden.

Her heart starts to pound inside her chest. Whatever he's about to do, it is almost certain that she wouldn't like it. "Where are you taking me?"

"I will bring you back to your damn team before dinnertime, don't worry."

Like she would believe that for a second. "You didn't answer my question."

"What difference does it make? When it's clear that you've already made up your mind not believing any word I say?" He almost smiles when she quickly averts her gaze. His words had hit home.

"If you so much as touch a member of my team, I'll kill you."

He scoffs. "Your powered boyfriend and your friends are exactly where we left them." He pauses for a beat to let that information sink in. "Unlike popular belief, I don't share my predecessors' fascination with vivisections."

"So it's true, then. You're the new head of Hydra." She says, finally putting into words the speculation everyone in SHIELD had been whispering about for months now. She can't say she didn't see this coming.

He notes how she didn't make an effort to deny her relations with the new guy. It stings more than he cares to admit. "I'd like to think of it as expanding my horizons."

"Well I can't wait to shove that horizon up into your ass." She retorts.

A derisive snort punctuates the amusement her threat gives him. "That is something that I would love to see you try."

"I am not going to ask again, Ward. Where. Are. We. Going?"

The glare she shoots him can easily be the most intimidating look he has seen on her. May is definitely rubbing off on his former rookie. And not in a very good way. "Somewhere we could talk."

She rolls her eyes so hard they almost fall out of their sockets. "Talk? Right."

He smirks. He will always be a liar in her eyes. "I rest my case."

Convinced that fighting him for control of the quinjet is her only way to escape, she braces herself to lunge at him. However, before she so much as move a muscle, his face gets plastered with a self-satisfied smirk.

He looks pointedly at her arms. "Attack me, and those gauntlets will release enough electrical charge to knock you out for at least a couple of hours."

She gives her new gauntlets a split second glance and rolls her eyes some more. "You're bluffing."

"Then by all means," he spreads his arms wide and encourages her to attack, "go ahead."

Stubborn as a mule, she clenches her fists and saunters to him. She's barely a foot away from him when a sharp pain indeed shoots right off the gauntlet on her right arm, causing her knees to buckle. She blacks out for a second. "Motherf-"

"In my defense, I did tell you that I wouldn't lie to you." He deadpans, looking down at her.

"You son of a bitch." She gasps in between pants. She feels like she's just been jolted by a thousand volts.

Ward shrugs. "Just imagine how strong the shock will be if you do attack me."

Her nails claw onto the carpeted floor in her attempt to control her breathing. Both of her hands are still trembling from the residual electricity that has just been forced through her body.

"Go back to bed, Skye." He mutters gently. "I'll tell you when we get there."

In between heavy breaths, she grits out, "I knew I should've gone for your head in Puerto Rico."

His lips tighten into a thin line. He stares at her straight in the eye and replies, "Yeah, you should have."

He heads back to the cockpit without another word.


	3. Three

Skye patiently sat on the bed for as long as she could, wringing her fingers nervously on her lap. Knowing that Ward is piloting the quinjet to god knows where is not exactly soothing to the nerves. Still, she chooses to wait it out. She can't risk any sudden movements while their flying at thirty thousand feet anyway, not with the electric gizmo he's installed on her arms currently at play. There has to be a way to disable it somehow.

She suddenly wishes that Lincoln is with her. For sure he can do something, after all, electricity is kind of his thing. Maybe he could even give Ward a taste of his own medicine.

And what the hell is going on with Ward? Yeah, you should have? He made it sound like it is somehow her fault that she didn't go shooting holes through his skull in San Juan. What is that about?

Well, whatever. He is still a bastard.

"We're almost there." Ward's emotionless tone suddenly booms through the intercom, startling her out of her thoughts. "Though I wouldn't recommend trying to escape when we land. I can navigate through this terrain even with my eyes closed."

See? A real sweetheart, that one.

"Just wait until I get this wretched arm ornaments of yours removed." She irately mutters under her breath. "I'll show you how familiar with the terrain you can really get."

They land swiftly on some desolate clearing in the middle of nowhere. Nothing but huge trees can be seen for at least a hundred or so yards in all directions. Skye couldn't see the quinjet behind him anymore, on account that Ward has turned its cloaking mechanism on. There goes the chance for satellite detection.

Ward gets out of the plane first. He didn't even glance back to see if she's following him. Silently, he takes in the place, nothing but a small shudder to betraying his impeccably stiff posture.

Without giving it much of a thought, Skye trails after him. She thinks she knows where they are. "Is this—"

His reply is quiet, pained, "Yeah."

"Those five years..." Skye begins, worrying her lip as she thinks of the best way to broach the subject without risking some sort of psychotic episode from him. She doesn't think he would actually go nuts per se, but then again, this is Grant Ward. Predictable has never been an accurate word to describe him.

"Yes." He says. "This is where Garrett trained me."

The broken voice that reaches her ears makes her insides to twist into little tight knots. It is clear that tension is radiating from him from every pore. She sighs. He's a bad guy, she knows that, but still, being here—on this very ground—she feels like she's invading something private. Something she doesn't have the right to see. "Why did you take me here?"

"Honestly," He stares at the forest before him for a couple more beats before releasing a heavy sigh. "I don't really know."

"You don't know." Skye repeats. He's got to be lying. Everything seems too elaborate just for a simple impromptu abduction.

"Flew here without thinking. It must be fate."

"Fate?" She scoffs. She wonders when she'll stop needing to deliberately remind herself how evil this man can be every five minutes. If only it was that easy. "Bullshit."

"Yeah, maybe it is," he answers vaguely as he walks on.

While slowly following suit, Skye also begins to assess her chances of escape. She looks around for possible exit routes, or at least any weapon that she could use against Ward. There's a lot to choose from, really; however, before she could even get the chance to pick any, Ward momentarily halts on his steps and mumbles, "There's a dirt road a couple of miles east from here." He offhandedly informs her. "That would be your way home."

"Um, what?" She asks, dumbfounded, as she tries to hide the fact that his erratic behaviour is starting to worry her. She kidnaps her then tells her a way out without at least trying to do anything? That doesn't seem right. There's an angle here that she's missing. A plan.

He chuckles, perhaps at the obvious uncertainty that he hears from her voice. "Bet you expected me to take you to a Hydra facility of some kind."

"I still haven't completely ruled that out." Skye says as she folds her arms across her chest. "What game are you playing, Ward?"

"No game." He assures her. "And if I did plan on taking you to our base, what do you expect me to do to you there? Torture you?" The way he said it makes it sound like it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.

"It crossed my mind." She admits, giving her new arms ornaments the stink eye. "You did give me these hair-raising cuffs from hell."

He shrugs. "Call it my insurance. You and I both know how easily you can kill me."

Insurance, it could much as well mean that he had been planning to do this for some time now, and it doesn't sound good. "Where did you take the girl?"

Ward snorts. What he promised to her was never telling her another lie, and as far as he's concerned, not answering her questions does not exactly constitute lying. "As if I'd ever tell you."

"You are not going to kill me, and save for this cuffs you don't seem like you're planning to torture me for information so at this point I believe your only accomplishment has been—" She trails off as a realization hits her.

Oh shit.

He removed her team from the base, disabled them, then took her far away. Without a single powered person manning the ground, the Playground is left vulnerable state. "You took us all out-you're planning an attack on our base!"

Ward sharply turns to face her. He looks offended by her accusation. "You've set me too high on the pedestal of evil, Skye." He notes. "Sorry to disappoint you but SHIELD does not interest me that much. I couldn't care less about your stupid base."

"SHIELD doesn't interest you, and yet, here I am." Skye snaps. "You do remember that I am a SHIELD agent, right?"

"As if I could ever forget that." Ward replies. "Though I must admit, leather does suit you way more than your usual flannel."

"Now we are talking about my wardrobe?" She scoffs. "You know what, I don't have time for this. If you are going to shoot me, just shoot me."

He purses his lip and looks away. "I almost shot you, while you were asleep."

A mere raised eyebrow is all that admission earns. "Am I supposed to thank you?"

Ward shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

Fuck this. Whatever he's trying to do, she would not let him succeed. Clearly, he's just messing with her. "Are you trying to get me to pity you? Let me tell you Ward, I'd take more than a little field trip to the woods to make me forget even one of your many, many crimes. Your past is messed up, I get that, but so was mine. Your past may have contributed to what you have become, and sure, Garrett was not any help either. But the choices were made by you. Your S.O. didn't pull the trigger to all those people, Ward. You did. Garrett may have dragged you to the dark side, but it is you who fucking chose to stay there!"

He does not say anything. He merely stares at her, a blank expression taking over his features.

She blatantly refuses to look at him as she speaks. "You let yourself become a monster, Ward."

This is a mistake. This, bringing her where it all started, is not helping him finds his closure at all. It only makes him feel worse than he already is. Ward finds his eyes closing in defeat. "You know what, you can go."

Confusion clouds Skye's features. "Wait, what?"

"Just go!" Screams Ward as he turns away from her questioning stare. A soft click rings out, and all of a sudden the gauntlets on her arms spring open. They unceremoniously drop to the ground, freeing her completely. As soon as her restraints fall off, vibrations assault her from all directions. It momentarily overwhelms her senses.

"Go, before I change my mind!"

The sudden onslaught of her powers causes her to stumble slightly. A muffled curse runs past her lips. "I'm done believing your crap, Ward. For all I know, there's a trap waiting for me once I get to the other side of that forest."

"Trap?" Ward rolls his eyes. He waves at her dismissively as he walks away. "Whatever. Blast me with your powers. Force a tree to fall down on my head. I don't care. Just leave."

She chooses to do neither. She's stubborn like that. "I am not leaving." The absurdity of her words is not lost to her. Her captor is letting her go, and yet she is the one who refuses to leave.

"I forgot how stubborn you can be." Ward deadpans.

"You brought me here for a reason."

He chuckles mirthlessly. "I thought I needed the closure with you, guess I was wrong."

"Closure with me?" Her eyebrows knit together. "I don't understand."

"Let me put this simply: You have two choices here Quake, it's either you kill me, or you leave me alone." He maintains his pace as he walks away from her. "I didn't know what I was thinking, dragging you all the way here."

She doesn't know why, but she senses no deception in his words. "Okay." Tentatively, she moves toward the direction of the dirt road he told her about. She's almost at the edge of the clearing when she changes her mind and storms back to where he stands. "You seriously think that I would simply let this go and buy this whole conflicted thing you're playing? After you going through the trouble of abducting me and flying me all the way here? If this is still about the talk we've had before you've jumped to the dark side, believe me, I regret all the words I've said to you that night. You are not a good man alright."

She continues on, "Those were perhaps the only honest words you've ever said to me."

"That's not true, and you know it." He mutters between gritted teeth.

"Do I, Ward?" She asks. "Let me tell you what I do know. I know that you don't act impulsively. I know that every time you do something, you've already thought ten, fifteen, steps ahead. And do you know what else I know? I know that you are lying to me right now."

Ward opens his mouth to speak, only to find his mind useless and completely blank.

When she hears gets no response from him, she huffs in frustration. "Might as well be talking to the wall." She says under her breath and turns around to leave. Gives him a small wave. "To hell with whatever trap you have set up in this woods. May you have a crappy life ahead of you, Ward."

Hearing those words, seeing her leave, it causes something inside him to snap. He chases after her. And then…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be continued...


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously...
> 
> "Let me put this simply: You have two choices here Quake, it's either you kill me, or you leave me alone." He maintains his pace as he walks away from her. "I didn't know what I was thinking, dragging you all the way here."
> 
> She doesn't know why, but she senses no deception in his words. "Okay." Tentatively, she moves toward the direction of the dirt road he told her about. She's almost at the edge of the clearing when she changes her mind and storms back to where he stands. "You seriously think that I would simply let this go and buy this whole conflicted thing you're playing? After you going through the trouble of abducting me and flying me all the way here? If this is still about the talk we've had before you've jumped to the dark side, believe me, I regret all the words I've said to you that night. You are not a good man alright."
> 
> She continues on, "Those were perhaps the only honest words you've ever said to me."
> 
> "That's not true, and you know it." He mutters between gritted teeth.
> 
> "Do I, Ward?" She asks. "Let me tell you what I do know. I know that you don't act impulsively. I know that every time you do something, you've already thought ten, fifteen, steps ahead. And do you know what else I know? I know that you are lying to me right now."
> 
> Ward opens his mouth to speak, only to find his mind useless and completely blank.
> 
> When she hears gets no response from him, she huffs in frustration. "Might as well be talking to the wall." She says under her breath and turns around to leave. Gives him a small wave. "To hell with whatever trap you have set up in this woods. May you have a crappy life ahead of you, Ward."
> 
> Hearing those words, seeing her leave, it causes something inside him to snap. He chases after her. And then…

"Ward, what the hell!" Screams Skye when her former S.O.'s arms suddenly grab her from behind, catching her completely and undeniably off guard. He clutches her tightly against his chest, and judging by the way she couldn't breathe right, it is perhaps a little bit too tight. The fierceness of it was enough to force out a not so agent-cy squeak from her lips. She struggles to push him off, but the harder she tries to break free, the harder he clings onto her.

"Skye..." Ward's pained murmur brushes against her neck, making her shudder slightly. She hopes he did not notice how her body had involuntarily reacted to his sudden and clearly unexpected proximity. He is resting his forehead against her stiffened shoulders, breathing heavily as if he's drowning and she's the only buoy in the whole damn planet that could save him.

"What in the fucking earth do you think you're doing?" She hisses. She hates his guts, perhaps even hates it enough to make her want to shoot him a couple more rounds, but this, being forced to be this close to him again, evokes strange emotions in her that she really thought she'd dumped for good. It only makes her hate him more.

"I know you detest me... that you can't forgive me..." Ward tells her softly, reading her mind, and completely ignoring her clear objections regarding the situation he puts her in. His voice sounds too foreign to her ears--like it belongs to another person from another place, another time. Someone who would not hesitate jumping off a plane to save a friend. Someone who wouldn't betray his team.

Someone good.

But then again, that someone is dead. Come to think of it, perhaps he never really existed. He had them all fooled. He had her fooled. And she'll be damned if she ever lets him fool her again.

"You hated me enough to shoot me." He says. "To kill me."

She ignores the small twisty feeling in her gut at the way his voice cracked. He's a spy, a professional liar, for crying out loud. He can fake anything without trying. This gentleness she hears in his tone, this remorse, it's all for show. It's not real.

"It was a wake up call." He tells her as he continues on with his stupid charade of faux repentance. "And believe it or not, I want to thank you for it."

A corner of her heart aches beyond her control, and she finds it unfair that he could still affect her like this when it is quite obvious that for him, everything they've been through is worth absolutely nothing. That his time with the team was merely a job—a means to an end. She just could figure out why he is still seeking her out like this. Whatever bond, whatever understanding they had, it's all gone. If four bullets cannot make it any more obvious, then she absolutely has no clue what else could.

"You're right. I lied. I deceived you. All of you."

"Take your arms off me, Ward." She orders calmly even though deep inside her mind is in complete and utter chaos. He is doing this to what, to flaunt how brilliant he's been in fooling everyone into eating right on the palm of his hands like some oblivious little puppy, when all this time he's been nothing but motherfucking straight out of hell traitor? To stress how easy it has been for him to beguile her? To shove her colossal naivety back to her face? Her voice drops to a bare whisper yet the sharpness that lingers in it couldn't be any clearer. "Let go of me."

"I will," he murmurs to her ear in reply, though his arms are doing the exact opposite of what is expected of him. "I promise you I will, just—"

The mere sound of his voice makes her blood boil. God, she hates this man. What they had was something good, something she never thought she'd have, and he didn't not even bother thinking twice before destroying it. "I am not going to ask again."

As much as she hates to admit it, and despite how weak and pathetic it sounds, she hasn't fully moved on from mourning the loss that his betrayal has caused her. She doesn't trust easily but she trusted him.

She chose to trust him.

And look where it got her, kidnapped for the fourth time by the man she once considered as her friend. An almost more than a friend, even.

Almost. She couldn't be more thankful of the word. If not for it, she probably wouldn't have recovered from all of this.

However the events of the past few months have turned out, it doesn't change the fact that every time he hears his voice, it's not the traitor she first remembers. And she hates herself for it. "I cannot forgive you, Ward." She clenches her fist as she collects her thoughts, and mutters spitefully. "I don't think I even want to."

"I know, I know. I killed a lot of innocent people, ruined countless lives..." He swallows hard, "I broke your trust."

As he continues to say his piece, it takes a lot of her self control not to let a very nasty expletive from leaving her mouth. She couldn't fathom the reason why his sudden desire to explain himself necessitates him to trap her in his arms like this as well. "Broke my trust?" She chuckles humorlessly, struggling to free herself some more. "I wanna laugh so hard right now."

To her utter dismay, her words did nothing to dissuade him from talking. He burrows his forehead further into her shoulder, enough to make her squirm. "I am not expecting you to give me the forgiveness that I couldn't even give myself."

For that statement alone, she again feels the urge to slug him in the face. Why does she suddenly feel like she's the bad guy here? Like she's some heartless bitch incapable of forgiveness? Is that his intention all along?

"I did terrible things. I'm a lost cause."

She wants to glare at him for that, but she could barely move to turn her head and face him. Without much of a choice, she takes calming breath and mutters instead, "Gotta give it to you Ward, you can be a good actor when you need to be." This ruse, this elaborate play he's making, it has to be leading up to something. There's an angle here she's missing. This is Grant Ward, for crying out loud. He will always have an angle. "You need something, don't you?"

Her question is met by a prolonged silence. Skye prefers to think he's merely wracking his brain for some lame excuse for his despicable actions.

But then the man suddenly finds his tongue and speaks. "I do," His admission earns a loud scoff from her end, but he didn't let it deter him. He goes on, "But what I need--what I want most--it is nothing I deserve, and it is sure as hell not something you could give me." He pauses for a beat. Sighs in defeat. "It's not something I would ever allow you to give me."

She cuts him off to stop him from spewing any more nonsense. "God, Ward does your bullshit ever run out?" What exactly is his end game here? What is it that he wants this time?

"Skye..."

"Fuck you, you traitor. Fuck you!" How dare he act as if he's the wounded party here, as if he suddenly has grown some sort of conscience? Is he deliberately trying to make her feel sorry for hating him? Well, that's just too bad. There are about a million things she did in the past that could make her feel bad, but despising him isn't one of them.

He mutters. "I hurt you."

She rolls her eyes dramatically and scoffs. "You think so highly of your own worth, Ward. You do not mean enough to me to hurt me. "After everything he's done, a few hurtful words are the too kind for what he actually deserves. 

She feels him nod behind her as he embraces her tighter. He captures her so securely with one of his huge arms draped across her chest while the other entraps both of her elbows against her sides. Despite tons of evasive techniques May has taught her, she couldn't get out of his hold. There is just so much a woman can do when a man twice her size suddenly thinks that squishing her like some snake's next meal is a good idea. She'd probably have better chances of escape if she is held in a chokehold instead. That, she knows what to do. That, she can maneuver her way out of. Not this. Nobody has trained her how to deal with enemies hugging her so tight to a point that her ribs are almost kissing her spine. In fact, this is one scenario that hasn't really crossed her mind, with it being ludicrous and all.

And to think she always prided herself of thinking outside the box.

Clearly, she had forgotten that there are no such things as insides or outsides of boxes when it comes to Grant Ward. She won't be blindsided like this otherwise.

"I am not here to argue with you."

"Yeah? Tell you what, if you don't let go right now, I will blast your arms off their sockets." She warns coldly, meaning every single word of it. She attempts to land an elbow to his gut, but she doubts he even felt her efforts. "Then I'll give you ample time to re-evaluate."

Ward did not seem even a little alarmed by the threat. Well, either that or he simply doesn't care. "There's nothing you can do that would make me want to hurt you. Not again."

Skye isn't sure if she that statement irritates her because she is fundamentally aggravated by everything that comes out of his mouth, or because she knows, deep down, that he is telling her the truth.

"I will never-"

"Stop." She cuts him off the second time. Is he really trying to make her regret what she did in Puerto Rico? Because he could still claim that he will never hurt her despite the fact that she didn't even bat an eye when she almost shoots him dead? Well, if he's fishing for an apology, she'll have to disappoint. "Just drop the act, Ward. You don't get to do that. Guilt-tripping me won't make me apologize for—"

"It's not about that!" It's his turn to stop her from speaking further. His grip does not waver around her and it is already making Skye beyond uncomfortable. She wonders if this is his plan all along, seeking his revenge by slowly strangling her to death.

"The moment you shot me..." He mutters in a clipped voice that makes her think that every word coming out of his mouth is physically hurting him in some way. "and left me for dead—I knew I lost you. "

She can't believe she's hearing this. She can't believe she's hearing this now. After all he's done, he's still working that stupid angle.

"I'm done blaming other people for what I've done. Whatever wrongs I've made, they were my choices. I made them of my own free will. They're on me." The ground starts to shake minutely beneath his feet, but he still pushes on. "Words can't express how much I regret being who I am... who have I become."

"The first time you called me the enemy is when I finally realized that..." He trails off when the earth jerks him slightly backward. Everything around him is moving at such an alarming rate, and it is for all intents and purposes, a clear warning that he should already let go. But for some reason he couldn't make himself move away from her. "I let myself become the villain, and right now, even though I wanted to, there's no way for me to go back. It would be silly of me to hope for redemption when I'm already too far gone."

How long had they been in this position? Skye wonders. If her current, and not to mention, more upstanding S.O. would see her now, she'd probably be very disappointed. She should've thrown Ward over her shoulder at least four times by now. "That does not explain why you are still..." she tries to push him off her again, "...ugh, cutting the circulation off my entire torso." She says irately, trying to shove him off her once more. But she might as well be forcing her way out of two slabs of unyielding concrete by the way he refuses to budge. "Damn it, Ward! I'm done hearing your crap. Let me go!"

He continues to speak without giving her as much as an inch. He knows that the moment he lets her go, she'll stop listening to everything he has to say. And god knows how much unsaid words lodged between them. He's not yet ready to let go, and judging by the momentum his heart is going, he might never be. "I know that there's no longer a chance for us, and I also know that it is all because of what I've done and all of the wrong choices I've made, but please Skye..."

If he isn't the same traitorous murdering psychopath who had lied to her at every turn, she'd probably think he's being sincere. She lets out a frustrated sigh. "Please what? God, Ward, how many bullets do I have to put in you to make you understand?"

"You don't feel the same way, I get that. Of course, I get that." He whispers so sullenly, and for a split second Skye thinks she went a little overboard with the cruelty. It makes her feel a little uneasy, and she doesn't like it.

"But can you please..." He hugs her closer to his chest, a silent means of communicating what he's been asking for from her. "I am not lobbying for another chance, or seeking redemption. Hell, I am not even asking for forgiveness. All I wanted is—" He struggles to find the words to say but he does, eventually. "I know that this is too much for me to ask but, can you please... pretend... even for a second..." He says, his voice becoming way tighter than his grip, "...that you don't hate me?"

Her heart momentarily stops at the weight his words carried. He sounds so broken, and she does not have the heart to say anything in reply, knowing that whatever comes out of her mouth next certainly won't make him feel any better. So instead of releasing the sharp retort playing dangerously at the tip of her tongue, she chooses to purse her lip and stand stiffly still.

"I promise that I will let you go, but just... please..." Ward mumbles helplessly. "Give me this once. I need—" He falters as an anguished chuckle escapes his throat, "I need you to hear me say this."

She grits her teeth and sighs. He's going to apologize again, and she could feel that unwelcome apology coming, radiating from the way he's gripping her so securely, his fingers clawing desperately into her shirt.

She can't forgive him. Indeed, she can let most things roll off her back, that it would take more than a boatload of shit thrown at her to faze her, but his betrayal? Killing god knows how many people? Dropping Fitzsimmons in the ocean? Torturing Bobbi? Those aren't things anyone can easily forget. She may be raised by nuns, but damn it, that doesn't make her a saint.

"Please, Skye..."

But then again, the thought of saying no to his pleas... it sends an excruciating ache inside her heart. How can she ever say no to that, to him, when he sounds so hollow and broken? Why is she letting him do this to her again? She should've learned her lesson by now.

"Please..." He murmurs.

God help her. She is going to regret this. She is really going to regret this.

She heaves a heavy breath. Gives in. Just this once. "Fine," she finally says. "Talk."

He breathes slowly, harshly, behind her. He waited for this chance for so long, and now that it's actually here, his words choose to evade him.

"What?" It's a miracle she manages to stop herself from impatiently tapping her foot on the ground. She wishes he stopped because he changed his mind, perhaps deciding that it would be much better for both of them to let the subject drop altogether. She isn't that lucky.

He breathes in deeply and makes up his mind about something. "You won't be hearing this again from me, so I need you to listen."

Well, what she needs is for this to be over. And maybe watch this bastard of a man to burst in flames so he'd stop talking altogether.

"I regret a lot of things." He began, enunciating every word with as if they carry varying levels of pain, each one gripping his throat even tighter than the last. "But if there's one thing that came out of all this that I don't regret—"

She tenses.

"If there's one thing that I will forever be thankful for..."

She can't let him go there. Not again. They've been through this. There's no need to bring it up again. She can deal with anything else. Just not that. He can apologize for the things he did all day, and she wouldn't complain. But god, she can't let him bring that up. "Wait, stop." She cuts him off before he could say something that would break her defences a little bit more. "Stop. Talking."

"It's you." He mumbles gently, and ignoring the plea veiled in her voice. He knows that she doesn't want to hear it again from him, but he has to say it. For his sanity, he has to say it. "It's always been you."

She's angry—no, she's livid at him for begging at her conscience, at her heart, like this. It is what he does best, and like a pathetic wimp she falls for it every single fucking time. He's fishing for a weakness, and she'll be damned if she ever lets him get to her again.

If only he stops sounding so broken and sincere.

God, she really hates this man.

"What I felt for you before, and what I am feeling right now, those are things that will never change." He breathes out, like some weight is finally lifting off his chest. "Please remember that."

She attempts to turn her head towards him, but her movement is met with sheer resistance so she remains trapped in his arms. "Damn it, Ward..." She fights off the tears that are threatening to fall. She's not going to cry over him. The Ward she once knew, and this Ward who's with her now, they're not the same person. They cannot be more different. This one doesn't deserve her tears.

But he doesn't seem like he's about to shut his mouth anytime soon.

She's right.

"I love you."

Her eyes fall close before she could stop them.

(If only you were him.)

"I love you, Skye." He repeats, as if there is a chance that she didn't hear him the first time. There was none.

This is her cue to say something snarky, to voice out a sarcastic comment that would push them back to level ground and out of this steep cliff they're freely falling into. But she can't. Her mouth has turned dry, and there's a huge lump in her throat that she could not dislodge. Her voice drops to a soft murmur as she speaks. "Let me go."

She feels his jaw momentarily tense as he manages as small nod. Hesitantly, he does exactly what he's told and releases her. But he doesn't take a single step back, and neither does she.

"What are you expecting me to say here?" She asks, still not daring to turn and look at him, fearing of what's waiting for her to see.

"I'm not expecting anything. I just needed you to hear it." He replies softly. "And I want you to believe it."

"Ward... Grant, please..." Stop it. Stop making things more difficult than they already are. "I don't need this right now."

"Do you believe me, Skye?" The desperation that laces his words is too obvious to miss.

She opens her mouth before closing it again. Runs a hand across her face. She couldn't tell when exactly her tears started falling, but they are, and she couldn't stop them. She not crying over him, no, her tears are not for that. 

She's crying over what could've been-what he could have been.

But she guesses that that is something that she will never know.

The lie is already dancing dangerously on the tip of her tongue, but somehow she cannot bring herself to say it. She knows she shouldn't but—

"Do you believe me?"

She tentatively shakes her head. The only type of lie she could muster.

"Skye, do you believe me?"

Of all the lies he'd told her, why does her heart have to believe that one? "Yes."

Her answer causes him to smile, perhaps the first genuine smile he's had for a while. "Then maybe it's all worth it."

It takes more than a moment for her to gather her thoughts and say them, but when she finally does, even she herself is stunned of what they turn out to be. "I really wished he was real."

"He was, Skye." He breathes, "He is."

"No, no he wasn't." It is all she could say. If she tries to give away anything more than that, she fears that she might not be able to keep it together for long. And that is something she could not afford. Not with him. Never with him.

He exhales tightly, painfully, like her answer hurts him way more than the four bullets that she'd used against him. "Well, if he was, I'm sure he'd say that those few months he's spent with you were the happiest of his life."

"But it wasn't enough, was it?"

He says nothing. He has nothing to say to that.

"You know that this doesn't change anything, right?" She says, tone much firmer and steadier this time. "Once I leave this place, I will go back to being your enemy. I will still be hunting you down."

He nods regretfully even though he knows she couldn't see. "I expect nothing less."

"And I will still hate your guts."

"I know you will."

"We might end up fighting each other."

He nods. "We might."

"I may have to take you down."

She earns a good hearty laugh from him at that. "I'd love to see you try, rookie."

"But maybe..." She sighs.

He tries to stop it, but hope rises in his heart quicker than his brain's ability to cope. He goes for an easy quip to mask it. "You won't be shooting me in the back next time?"

She chuckles, a more genuine one as it appears, "no promises but," she hesitates, "...maybe I could try not to actively despise you."

"That's..." The gratefulness in his tone does not go amiss. "That's way more than I could ever hope for," he says. And it indeed gives him hope. If she is still capable of hating him less than he deserve then maybe there is still hope for him after all. Maybe in time, he could learn how to forgive himself for all he's done. Maybe he can look at her again without feeling like his heart is being shattered into a million irreparable pieces, regretting all the chances he's wasted. Maybe in time, he could look back at this part of his past with a smile on his face. Maybe. "Thank you."

She chuckles at that. "For what? For the four bullets I gave you?"

She feels his weight shift from one foot to another. "For everything."

A small nod is all she gives him. She takes a couple of steps forward. "And Ward," she says, stopping for a moment when a thought hits her, "for what it's worth, I don't think that you're a lost cause."

He smiles again. It feels nice. Smiling. He'd forgotten. "You're a good person, Skye." He tells her. "I hope you know that"

"But apparently not good enough to forgive you just yet."

"You have every right not to." He says. "I will never hold that against you."

She nods as she starts walking again, further increasing the great expanse that separates them. "By the way, I go by Daisy now. You might want to get used to it."

"I'll try."

As soon as she could breathe normally once more, she hears him call out. She halts.

"Wait, Sk-D-Daisy..." He hesitates. The way her new name rolls off his tongue feels strange, but he knows he'll eventually get used to it. "I am really happy you finally found your place-where you belong."

She manages a tight smile at that. "Me, too." She replies. "I just wish I could say the same for you."

He looks away. "I think I'm getting there."

She squares her shoulders, but still keeps her back turned. It's better this way. For both of them. "Goodbye, Grant."

He feels much lighter now. Like the weight of the world has been finally lifted off his chest. A chapter in his book that is finally being closed. He looks up, smiling at the disappearing shade of blue above the clouds. The sun is setting, yet the horizon in front of him slowly becomes brighter and brighter. The irony in all of it is not lost to him.

He smiles and mumbles softly to the empty space in front of him, "Goodbye, Skye."


End file.
